


make what doesn't matter fade to grey

by pirateygoodness



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Couch Cuddles, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13772433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: It's always like this, with Amaya. There's something palpable, less mystical connection and more schoolgirl crush, at least from Zari's side of things. Amaya is just so pretty, everything about her - the smile, the dark eyes, the intensity of her - effortless and infinitely desirable."Tell me," Zari says. "What movie do I want to watch?"(or: Amaya and Zari watch Star Wars and work off some mutual tension)





	make what doesn't matter fade to grey

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Bright" by Echosmith.

When Zari was growing up, her family had this cat. Or, more accurately: there was a stray cat in her neighbourhood, and she and Behrad would sometimes sneak out with leftovers from supper to feed it. The cat quickly picked up a habit of lingering near their house, somehow always appearing at precisely the right time to accept a piece of cheese or a scratch behind the ears or the corner of a jam sandwich. 

Being friends with Amaya feels sort of like that. 

She has this way of - it's not invading Zari's space, because as much as Zari protests, she's always welcome. But her sense of timing is almost uncanny. Whenever Zari is feeling a bit bored, or thinking about how she'd like someone around, Amaya appears. 

Maybe it's her totem or mystical connection or whatever thread it is that somehow connects them across time; Zari sending out signals without realizing. Maybe it's just coincidence. 

Amaya taps open the door to Zari's bunk like she knows she's welcome. "Oh, hey, thanks for knocking," Zari says. Like Amaya still has to knock, like Zari hadn't given up on that weeks ago. 

Amaya wrinkles her nose with mirth and makes a show of knocking gently on the wall beside Zari's head. "Can I join you?" she asks. Zari's response is a bit moot: she's already folding herself onto the couch, rearranging the blanket covering Zari's knees so that it covers them both. 

Weeks ago, this might have bothered Zari. 

She spent so long without being touched, and it took weeks for her to adjust to the _presence_ of Amaya. The way she shows affection by dragging her fingers across Zari's forearms, the way she thinks it's normal to eat food from the same plate as someone else, her tendency to sit just a little bit too close. It was overwhelming, at first, but now this casual contact - Amaya slinging her legs across Zari's lap, the press of her calves against Zari's thighs and the way she curls so that her head is on Zari's shoulder - feels almost normal. "If I said no, would you listen?" 

Amaya grins at her. "Of course I would," she says. "But I'm pretty sure you want to hang out with me." 

"Oh yeah?" Zari replies. She's got a book in her hands, she _was_ reading, but now that she's got a lap full of Amaya she sets it aside. "And what, exactly, do I want to do?"

Amaya's eyes go wide, and her mouth curls a little, close-mouthed and mischievous - it takes Zari a few moments to hear the double-entendre that Amaya catches right away. She doesn't miss a beat. "You want to watch a movie with me," Amaya says. It's not really a question, but her voice lilts upward at the end just enough that Zari knows she's asking. She's looking at Zari so earnestly, holding her gaze just long enough that Zari starts to feel a bit flustered. 

It's always like this, with Amaya. There's something palpable, less mystical connection and more schoolgirl crush, at least from Zari's side of things. Amaya is just so pretty, everything about her - the smile, the dark eyes, the intensity of her - effortless and infinitely desirable.

"Tell me," Zari says. "What movie do I want to watch?"

Amaya bites her lip, her expression exaggeratedly thoughtful. Zari tries not to think too closely about the way desire starts to flutter inside her at the sight of it. They've kissed before. Briefly, in hurried, stolen moments over chores. They've shared longer ones, too, the slow kind that left Zari breathless and endlessly confused on her back on Amaya's bed. But they've never really talked about what those kisses signify. Amaya's always so _like this_ with Zari, showing her a level of casual intimacy that Zari still can't quite interpret. 

(The idea of actually _asking_ makes Zari's stomach go cold with worry. In a fit of confusion, she spent an entire evening reading through a book on romantic etiquette from 1939, but it was frustratingly vague on this particular situation.)

Amaya's face turns from thoughtful to grinning. "Star Wars," she says. "The second one." 

"Seriously?"

"Well, I saw the original movie with the boys, but they couldn't agree on how to watch the sequels, and I thought. . .maybe I could watch with you?" She's looking up at Zari like she's suggested something romantic. 

"I guess," Zari says. She has this sudden memory of lunch the day before, of Nate swearing up and down that _Empire Strikes Back_ is one of the most romantic movies of all time. "If you want." 

Amaya lights up. 

 

It is a very good movie. Probably. Zari can't really tell. 

As soon as the movie starts, Amaya snuggles right up against her side with this soft, happy sigh that makes Zari's breath catch. It's been an hour and she's still there, her head resting in the space between Zari's shoulder and the top of her chest, her legs shifting against Zari's thigh. 

Zari wouldn't be able to recall a single thing about the plot of this movie if her life depended on it. 

What she can recall, with vivid clarity, is the way Amaya's hair smells. She's painfully aware of the feel of it tickling at her nose, and of how much she wants to press her face against the top of Amaya's head and breathe in. She doesn't. She doesn't, and she tries not to think about how much she wants it because that's _weird_ if they're friends, and they are - probably - just friends. 

(Unless they're something other than that.)

She can recall the way that Amaya's thighs feel warm and soft against her own, and suddenly that lets her imagine what it would feel like to put her hand in between them and push them apart and - 

Something happens on screen. The characters in the movie are in space, on a planet where everything is floating, and the music tells Zari that something important is happening. One of the characters - the one in the helmet - says something and Amaya gasps. She reaches across Zari's body, feeling for her hand. Zari obliges, meeting Amaya's searching fingers with her own without thinking. It's not until after Amaya threads her fingertips in between Zari's and squeezes tight that she realizes what's just happened.

This can't be friendly. It can't. Amaya's half-draped on top of her, one leg casually resting between Zari's knees, her head on Zari's shoulder and Zari can feel all of Amaya's fingers intertwined with her own. She's trying, but she can't quite keep herself from getting flustered. Amaya's too pretty to resist. 

Back on the screen, the important one - Luke Skywalker - is doing something. There's a little green man, and a spaceship, and maybe if Zari could remember anything about the beginning of this movie this scene would make more sense. Amaya shifts her weight. She takes her legs back, tucking them underneath herself so that her knees are resting against the top of Zari's thigh and her head is upright. She doesn't let go of Zari's hand, and now that her legs are arranged differently, their joined hands sort of fall into Zari's lap. 

_Lap_ makes it sound too innocent. Their joined hands are in the space where Zari's thighs meet, resting in the little valley there. Zari's own knuckles are brushing against her inner thigh, inches away from the apex of them and Amaya's hand is there with it. Zari can't see her fingers; their hands are underneath the blanket on their laps. But she can picture them, slender and dextrous and beautiful, just like the rest of her. 

There's another noise on screen, an explosion or a spaceship or something and Zari does her best to drag her attention back to it. Tries to think about the movie and not the fluttery hum of desire low in her belly, the way she's suddenly _aware_ of everything between her thighs and how close it all is to Amaya's fingers. 

She tries not to think about how hot she is just from holding Amaya's hand, because that would be inappropriate. 

 

The movie ends, and neither of them move. 

Amaya's still leaning in close. Her hand's still holding Zari's resting in that spot on Zari's lap that doesn't quite feel innocent. She takes a breath, rubs her thumb across Zari's knuckles and the edge of it brushes at the inner seam of Zari's jeans. 

It shouldn't affect her, but it _does_ , butterflies erupting behind Zari's ribs and little shivers of awareness rippling away from the point of contact at Zari's inner thigh. A sigh escapes from Zari's mouth, soft and yearning. 

It's impossible to explain away, and for a moment Zari freezes, certain that she's ruined everything. "Sorry, I -" she begins, searching for an excuse she doesn't really have. 

Amaya turns to look at her. Zari's heart is in her throat as she tries to read Amaya's expression, wide-eyed and tender, and she doesn't know what to think for one awful minute before Amaya captures Zari's mouth in the softest, sweetest kiss she's ever had. It's not just Amaya's mouth, or the taste of her, or the gentle swipe of Amaya's tongue across her lower lip. It's also _relief_ , sudden confirmation that all the emotion swirling behind Zari's ribs is, at least in part, reciprocated. 

It's not the sort of kiss you give to a very good friend. 

When they break apart, Zari is breathless. She can't stop thinking about Amaya, about how she wants to do so much more than kiss, how everything under her skin is humming with gentle, insistent desire. She hasn't been this worked up about a girl in _forever_ , but then, Amaya is special. She's got this way of drawing Zari in and making her feel more than she ever thought possible. 

"Hey," Amaya whispers. She's blinking up at Zari with a soft smile on her face. 

Zari hardly knows how to reply. She's feeling so much - maybe too much - right now. Her body is urging her towards a very specific end goal, desire beginning to settle into a slow throb between her legs. The rest of her is half-overwhelmed with just this: kissing and cuddling and the look in Amaya's eyes. "Hi," she manages. 

Amaya's expression turns from a gentle, coy smile to a grin. Then she rises up and kisses Zari again, this one slower and more deliberate than the one that came before. It ends with Zari's lower lip in Amaya's mouth, every bit of her focus suddenly there as Amaya suckles gently and then releases it with a wet pop, a glance up, and a smile. "I really liked watching that movie with you." 

"Good," Zari says. Her brain is nothing but static, more and more of her attention focused on thoughts that are absolutely not appropriate for this conversation. Probably. "I - good." 

Amaya sits back, just a little bit. She's still near, but she's not quite on top of Zari's lap anymore. The breathing space between her body and Zari's side helps. She lets go of Zari's hand, snakes her palm across Zari's lap to rest against the thigh closest to her. It makes things feel a little easier - like the room has more air in it, somehow. "You know," Amaya says. Her hand moves, starts to trace little swirls across the inside of Zari's thigh and she can actually _feel_ herself getting wet over it. "All that sitting gave me a lot of extra energy to burn."

Zari shifts instinctively, her thighs pressing together. She doesn't mean to, but the added pressure sends a jolt of sensation running through her, and she's suddenly extremely aware of her own desire and how much her body wants to be touched. This is flirting. This is more than flirting, this is Amaya _propositioning_ her. Zari swallows. She wants this so _much_ , every molecule of her, but the flutter behind her ribs is turning sour, from earnest desire to worry. They've barely talked about this, haven't done much more than kissing here and there, really. 

Zari doesn't know when sex between women was invented. She knows, after meeting Helen of Troy, that it was probably well before Amaya's time, but what if it _wasn't_ and what if Amaya has never and it's been _ages_ since Zari's had anyone else touch her. That last thing, that's probably the most important. "Yeah?" she stutters.

Amaya nods. She's watching Zari attentively, her eyes catching every one of Zari's microexpressions as she asks, "Do you? Have a lot of energy?" 

She does. She _really_ does, if she and Amaya are thinking about the same very specific kind of energy. She's got a lot of that pent up, and all of it blooms to life at Amaya's suggestion. "Maybe," she sighs. "Yeah." 

"What do you want to do about it?" Amaya asks. 

That's the question. Zari leans her head back, makes this sound halfway between a sigh and a moan. Even to her own ears she can't tell if it's made up of frustration or desire. "I don't know. Something, probably, I just -" 

Amaya's hand moves away from her thigh. The contact disappears for a moment, then reappears on Zari's upper chest. Amaya's fingers splay apart, reaching out to feel Zari's heartbeat. She holds it there until Zari's worry settles and she feels like she can look back. Until she can talk about all the feelings swirling underneath Amaya's palm. "You just what?" Amaya asks. 

"I'm still, uh," Zari begins, addressing the ceiling. "It's a lot, being touched." 

She doesn't talk about why. Amaya already knows most of that. When Zari finally works up the courage to look back, Amaya is watching her with kind eyes. She's always so kind. "Would it help if I didn't touch you?" 

Zari frowns. "But I _want_ you to, I don't -"

Amaya shakes her head. "No, I mean - what if I touched myself, and you touched yourself." 

_Oh._ "Oh." 

The smile on Amaya's face is tentative, but when Zari nods in the affirmative she lights up. They tumble towards each other in a different kind of kiss, warm and messy. Now that Zari knows what to   
expect, has parameters, this feels just fine. 

Amaya shifts, getting up on her knees and overbalancing on purpose, easing Zari onto her back. _Making out_ , that's the only word for this. Amaya kissing and kissing and Zari's hips stuttering out her eagerness, arching up against Amaya's thighs and not quite finding purchase. It's a lot of _almost_ : almost enough kissing, almost the right angle, and it leaves Zari wet and throbbing and Amaya gasping into her mouth. "I want -" Amaya whispers, finding Zari's thigh and bookending it with her legs, rocking down. "Are you -?"

Zari shivers underneath her. She is, she wants, her body and her heart for once eager for the same thing. "Yeah. Yeah, I want to. How should we -?" 

Amaya's frowning, already undoing her jeans. "Undress," is all she says. 

Zari can't, not until Amaya gets off of her. It takes Amaya longer than it should to work out that she needs to stand up, to get out of her jeans. She looks at Zari, watching her from her spot on the couch, and leaves her underwear on. 

Zari follows suit, wriggling out of her jeans and standing. The couch doesn't look big enough. Zari's bed is right there, though, and that's perfect. They arrange themselves facing each other, Zari at the head of the bed and Amaya at the foot, each seated and leaning against the bulkheads that bookend Zari's bunk. "So," Zari says. 

Amaya rocks her leg to the side, bumping Zari's knee. "So," she says back, teasing.

"How does this go?" Zari asks. 

Amaya laughs. "I'm not sure," she says. "But I can -"

She doesn't finish her sentence with words. Instead, she punctuates it with her right hand, sliding it down her belly and across her thigh and then upward, pulling the fabric of her panties tight against herself. Zari can see a little damp spot forming there, can see the hint of dark curls between her legs. "Damn," she sighs. 

Amaya giggles again, this one deeper-pitched and throaty as she runs her hand up to the waistband of her underwear and then slips it down inside. Her legs spread a little wider, and all Zari can see is the rise and fall of the back of Amaya's hand, doing _something_ until Amaya's head drops back against the bulkhead and she sighs. Zari doesn't notice how intently she's watching until she realizes she's leaning onto her hands, her lower lip caught between her teeth. She wants more, wants to _know_ what Amaya's doing to herself instead of just guessing at it. She wants so much that she finds herself saying, "That's not fair." 

Amaya's head comes up, her eyes opening just slightly. "What's not fair?"

"I can't see." 

Amaya laughs, and her hand stills. She slips out of her underwear, and as she does so Zari could swear that wet spot on the gusset looks a little larger. She doesn't have time to be sure, though, because soon Amaya's bringing her legs up and slipping out of her underwear. And oh, _wow_ , that's a whole different view to take in. There she is, naked from the waist down, and Zari can see everything. She leans a little closer, unable to look away. 

Amaya's knee bends, and suddenly everything is _opening up_ , outer lips parting as Amaya's fingers slip in between them. She slides across herself easily, fingers picking up shining wetness as Amaya circles them around, skimming through her folds before ending up at her clit. 

Zari swallows, and as she does she realizes her mouth has been watering. 

Amaya's fingers start to move, tracing tight circles against herself and Zari aches at the sight of it. Even this part of her - no, _especially_ this part of her - is beautiful. Amaya makes this sound in her throat, soft and feminine and delighted, and Zari's hand slides in between her own legs, instinctively. She doesn't know if it's alright to touch herself just yet, and the idea of interrupting Amaya when she's like this isn't even worth considering. Amaya's hand is working in earnest, her hips rocking ever so slightly against it as the rest of her body begins to tense. 

Zari can feel herself throbbing, her inner walls twitching in sympathy as Amaya gets closer and closer to climax. She lets her hand hover above herself, just over her underwear. Amaya shudders in front of her, bites back another sigh and her fingers do something that sounds _wet_. Zari can't quite help it: she runs her thumb across herself, through her underwear. Tries to ease the ache without _easing_ it just yet. 

Amaya's head drops down to her chest. The pace of her fingers accelerates, reaching a fever pitch as she lets out a soft, whimpering moan that makes Zari acutely aware of her own need. Then she whimpers again, freezes for a moment, and breaks into a series of shudders that are clearly a sign of her orgasm. It seems to hit her in waves, little shudders that each send her rocking forward, curling closer towards her own touch. Zari can see her drawing them out of herself, the pace of Amaya's hand arrhythmic and slowing. Eventually, Amaya relaxes, leaning back against the wall with a long, self-satisfied sigh. 

Zari can hardly believe what's just happened. She feels so lucky to be able to see Amaya like that, the openness of her and the sight of her all spread out, coming just for Zari. 

Amaya's legs are still spread across the bed, knees bent, and as she comes back to herself she slowly draws them back together. She's still dreamy, her eyes a little unfocused as she searches for Zari and smiles. "Feel better?" Zari asks. 

Amaya's grin grows wider. She makes this sound, a laugh that's halfway to a moan and says, "Much." Her eyes drop, finding Zari's hand over her underwear, holding herself just enough to ease the tension there. She frowns. "What about you?"

Zari stalls, stutters. "I didn't know if I should - I didn't want to interrupt." 

Amaya licks her lips, looks at her. "I think you should." 

Zari feels her cheeks go hot, tries to ignore the fact that she's probably going red. She takes off her underwear and arranges herself in a way that feels comfortable, cross-legged with her back to the wall. She rests her forearms on her thighs, her hands sort of covering herself. She feels shy about this, nervous and a bit embarrassed that somehow this isn't what Amaya wants to see.

But then Amaya leans forward, tucking her legs beneath her so that she's leaning in closer to Zari. "Go ahead," she says, addressing the space between Zari's legs. "Please." 

It's that word - _please_ \- that makes Zari feel brave enough. She presses three fingers against her apex and is shocked by the jolt of sensation she feels in return. As she returns her focus to herself, she realizes how close she already is to her own finish. Amaya hums, whispers, "I want you to make yourself feel good."

"I do," Zari mumbles in reply. She slouches down just a little, her legs coming out from underneath her and spreading wide, one leg straight and the other bent, foot flat against the bed. 

She knows how to do this. She knows how to get herself off. She closes her eyes, trying to think about all the ways this is similar to taking care of herself in her bunk, taking the edge off of her own desire to work through tension or help get to sleep. Zari slides her index finger down first, finds her clit firm and sensitive for her. She's _so_ wet that she hardly needs to bring any more up to her clit but she does, drags her fingers down to her entrance and finds slickness pooling there. Everything is velvet-warm, and at the brush of her fingertips her inner walls flex, shuddery and oversensitive. 

Zari circles her fingers back up, dragging wetness with her and spreading it across her clit. It feels so good that she can't help but sigh out. She hears Amaya react: a gentle catch of her breathing and a soft rustle like she's shifting on the bed next to Zari. The sound makes Zari smile, and she's halfway to a laugh when she rubs across her clit just the right way and has to catch herself, bites down on her lower lip hard and whimpers. 

"You're so pretty," Amaya whispers. 

The compliment makes Zari sigh again. She's working at her clit rhythmically now, rubbing a path back and forth the way she likes it. She's so eager already, it feels too soon for her to be on the edge of orgasm but it also feels like this can't come soon enough, she's been worked up and waiting for this for _ages._

She can feel everything start to tense, her orgasm beginning to build inside her as she keeps up the pace of her fingers. She's so close, so _almost_. She adds pressure, using more downward force and circling her clit more tightly. She feels close, the edge of her orgasm within reach. Zari's focus is starting to narrow in that familiar way, the world becoming less about her thoughts and worries and more about the space between her hand and her skin, the slick slide of them together and the ripples of pleasure running through her with every movement. 

Zari hears herself sigh, and from beside her hears an answering, " _Yes._ " 

Amaya sounds so into her, voice soft and rough and somehow knowing that makes Zari feel even more. She quickens her pace just a little, touching until sensation blooms between her legs and bursts and Zari's coming against her hand with a cry and a series of slick shudders. Her orgasm feels bigger than usual, and she lets herself enjoy it. She works her fingers at her clit, never quite breaking contact but slowing her pace to draw more and more from herself as she comes for herself, for Amaya watching breathlessly beside her. 

When she opens her eyes again, Amaya's arranged herself at the head of the bed beside Zari, facing her. She looks rapt, her smile nothing but delight and desire. "You look -" she starts. "I could watch you make yourself feel good like that for hours." 

Zari's still a little dazed, her brain foggy with pleasure and all she can manage is to smile and hide her head in Amaya's shoulder. "Oh," she mumbles.

"Was this okay?" Amaya asks. She shifts a little bit, makes space for Zari to cuddle in and rest her head properly on Amaya's shoulder. 

"More than," Zari says. "I want to - next time. I want to touch you. If there's a next time."

Amaya reaches up, drags her nails across the top of Zari's head and twirls a section of Zari's ponytail around her finger. "Next time," she says, with a certainty that Zari feels in her chest, dispelling her remaining nerves. "Absolutely."


End file.
